14. To The Letter
14
TO THE LETTER
Mitch glanced up when Tayla knocked on his open office door. With her hair in a messy knot, freckles fading across the bridge of her nose, and her lips bare, she looked breathtakingly carefree.
“Hi. I’d like a quick word if you’re not too busy?”
He stood. “Sure. Come in.”
She inched inside. Hesitant.
He strolled over and closed the door behind her. She remained standing, her fingers fiddling with the keys in her hand.
“I was wondering if we could maybe have a practice.”
“Practice?” He frowned. “What kind of practice?”
“It’s just…” Tayla glanced away. “What happens when we get to the ‘kiss the bride’ part? I don’t want it to be awkward.”
Mitch rubbed the back of his neck, wanting to smile at her request. But she was deadly serious, so he’d be the same. “Okay.”
“And please don’t be a dick about it. I’d rather our first kiss be in private, that’s all.”
“You do realize there will only be the five of us?”
“I know, but the celebrant has to think it’s legit, or she may refuse to marry us. Or revoke it. Or…anyway, you know what I mean. ”
“Good point.” He’d wanted to kiss Tayla that night they played touch rugby. But now, with her suggestion hanging in the air, Mitch unexpectedly felt nervous. And apart from his first time, in the back seat of Ella Stone’s car, he’d never been nervous around women. “Shall we go upstairs?”
She chewed her bottom lip and shook her head. As he stepped closer, she whispered, “Here’s fine.”
Mitch took the keys from her hands and placed them on top of the filing cabinet behind her. He’d longed to touch her hair ever since that first day in Simon’s office. To smell and taste her. But as his hands held hers, she inhaled sharply and trembled.
He dipped his head to meet her gaze. “Are you sure?”
Tayla nodded, keeping her focus downward. Mitch cupped her face, and as he brushed a kiss against her lips, she stilled. He pulled back, caught her hesitation, then bent down again, kissing her longer this time. Her response surprised him, the slow pleasure and inviting warmth of her mouth. Just as he went to deepen the kiss, a knock on the door pulled her away with a jolt.
“Hey, Mitch,” Ned called. “Someone’s here to see you.”
He looked over his shoulder, mumbling, “Shit” under his breath. “Okay. Thanks.”
A red-faced Tayla picked up her keys and opened the door. Before he had time to react, she darted from the office. He watched her stride past the conveyer belt, the taste of her fresh on his tongue and his jeans a little tight at the fly.
As Mitch went to go after her, he noticed Ella Stone sitting on the bench outside his office. He frowned. “Ella. What can I do for you?”
“Mitch.” She stared after Tayla hurrying across the packing shed and onto the driveway. “I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything.”
His gaze flicked toward Tayla. “Nothing that won’t keep.”
“Is she a client? ”
Mitch turned to look at her. There was no point in being secretive. “No, she’s my girlfriend. Fiancée actually.”
Ella stiffened. “Fiancée? But that wasn’t Prue Preston.”
“No, Prue and I finished months ago, remember?”
“I’m sorry. I should have called first. I didn’t realize you were seeing anyone—and engaged again so soon. Wow. You don’t mess around, do you?”
Mitch wasn’t about to elaborate, but he wanted to nip her interest in the bud. “We’ve been keeping it under wraps. How can I help?”
Ella narrowed her eyes. He could tell she was itching to ask more, but instead said, “I’m after some advice. I’d like to try mandarins on a block we’ve just purchased. I was hoping you could help me with the organics side. But first, I could murder a coffee. Shall we go upstairs?”
He hesitated. Spending time with Ella anywhere seemed a bad idea. But in the loft? “Sure. Come on up.”
She followed him to the bottom of the stairs. “Or a glass of red would be even better.”
Mitch stood on the balcony, a strong cup of coffee warming his hands. Autumn was his favorite time of year—when the memory of summer faded, and the days were clear and calm. Winter was the main season for citrus, but the mandarins and limes started earlier, meaning there’d be pickers everywhere soon. Oranges and grapefruit followed, and the thought of the upcoming season excited him.
His gaze moved to the Whitman homestead, his thoughts on Tayla and their practice kiss. The best kiss he’d had in a long while. What would the next few months bring between him and his timid, yet often fierce, bride-to-be?
Harmony? Chaos ?
Hearing his phone ding, he strolled inside to check it.
Luka: What’s up? Keen to watch the game?
Mitch: Why not? Beats floating up shit creek without a paddle.
Luka: Great. I’ll be there soon with a paddle and some beers.
Luka arrived half an hour later. He kicked off his shoes and dropped onto the sofa. Mitch grabbed a bag of chips from the pantry and chucked it to him.
“Thanks, mate.” Luka opened the bag and helped himself to a handful. “What’s happening up shit creek?”
“A lot. I want to show you something before the rugby starts.”
Luka checked his watch. “Don’t ask me to move from this couch. I’ve had a busy day.”
“As if. And stay where you are.” Mitch picked up the carved wooden box on the coffee table and opened the lid. He took out the top envelope and handed it to Luka.
“What’s this?” Luka asked, sitting up straighter.
Mitch took a seat in the chair opposite; Edward settled at his feet. “The last letter Norman ever wrote me. My grandfather was quite the letter-writer in his time. Take a look.”
Luka removed the fragile paper from the envelope and unfolded it. As he scanned the page, he frowned, then read aloud:
“ Dear Mitchel,
If you’re reading this, it’s because I’m gone. I apologize for the type. I prefer to write in real ink, as I believe it adds a romance to the script that a ballpoint or typewriter cannot. Sadly, my penmanship is not what it used to be, so I’m sitting at my old Olivetti. At least this way, you’ll understand my intention.
We’ve had our struggles over the years. I know you resented me for my treatment of your mother, and for that, I apologize profusely. I let my pride stand in the way of acceptance. It’s one regret of many, but losing my wife and son left such a gaping void, I lost myself as well.
I’ve met a girl who’s stolen my heart. You will know who I mean. With her unique style and poise, she isn’t easy to ignore. And while I have never so much as looked at another woman since your grandmother passed, this one is different. She takes my soul by her gentle hands, gives it a tug and brings it back to life.
She visits me often. We laugh, and sometimes we cry while watching sad movies. She bakes for me and reads in the most beautiful voice I have ever heard. Lying in bed, listening to her narrate the words of Steinbeck brings a lump to my throat.
Still, we’re from different times, and my love for her is purely platonic. I have attached a page to my will. Please honor it. I want her to finish her education without having to worry about money. As for my other stipulations, you may find them controlling, but I have my reasons.
What was once mine is now yours. Make the most of it. Leave the rat race behind and tend the land. Build a wonderful home, fill it with kids and laughter - surf, eat beautiful food, find a balance. And know this: Whatever you decide to do, if you’re happy and proud of your achievements, you have my blessing.
Some men are oat sowers, and some aren’t. You have many oats to sow, but when you’re finished with the bountiful harvest your good looks and charm provide, look to the girl next door. If we lived in a society where elders chose life partners for their offspring, she would be my choice for you.
Your loving grandfather,
Norman. ”
Luka folded the letter and returned it to the envelope. “Wow. The guy didn’t ask for much, did he? Judging by your shit creek comment, I take it the wedding’s all go?”
“I’d decided against it when I was in London. Seeing Liz and Ally settled and happy, I felt guilty about living a lie. But Chris Stone’s been flashing a wad of cash under Tayla’s nose. Imagine having that jerk set up shop in my backyard. And, his offer’s a low one. ”
“I don’t blame you. But a fake marriage?” Luka took a can of beer from the six-pack in front of him and pulled the tab. He swigged. “Mind you, I can see the appeal. If you have to marry a stranger, you’ll never tire of that view over the breakfast table.”
“Piss off.” Mitch chuckled. “It’s a calculated business strategy, not a lust match. And Tayla’s hardly a stranger.”
“If you say so.” Luka shook his head. “Norman, wherever he is, must be clapping his hands in glee. But what will Prue say?”
“Who knows? She doesn’t want kids, did I tell you? ‘Not now, not ever, Mitchel.’ That’s what she said the day we split.”
“Didn’t you discuss it before your engagement?” Luka had never warmed to Prue, and while he kept his opinion mostly to himself, his body language spoke volumes.
“We did. I got the impression we were on the same page. Looking back, we weren’t even in the same book.”
“And now Tayla holds the solution, does she? Have you sorted a prenup?”
“Not yet.”
Luka grinned. “You sure as hell don’t sweat the small stuff, do you, mate?”
“Yeah, well, the last time I dotted the i’s and crossed the t’s, the love of my life cheated on me. Who knew threesomes were her thing?”
Luka sipped his beer. “I’m sorry, but Prue was never the love of your life, and you know it. Nice enough girl, but…”
Mitch shrugged. Luka had a point, but that didn’t mean their breakup had hurt any less.
“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Luka continued.
“Nope. Norman always called me impulsive. Seems he was more intuitive than I gave him credit for. And just because Tayla’s beautiful doesn’t mean she’ll be easy to live with.”
“She’s got a kind smile.”
“Yeah, I may have seen it once or twice. Anyway, are you on board? ”
Luka huffed out a sigh. “When and where?”
“Sunday of next week, Petrie Bay. And we have to look the part. Imagine what Mum and the girls will say if we don’t have any decent wedding photos.”
“So you’re shouting me a new suit?”
Mitch chuckled. “Not in this lifetime.”
“Come on. We need to match.” Luka grabbed the TV remote and turned up the volume. “Right, enough wedding talk. The haka’s starting soon.”
Mitch sat on the sofa next to him and grabbed the chips. “Ella came to see me today.”
“No way.” Luka hit mute. “What the hell did she want?”
“A glass of wine and a shoulder to cry on under the pretense of advice. Chris is in one of his moods again. He thinks she’s having an affair.”
“Two words. Be very careful.”
Mitch laughed. “That’s three.”
“Yeah, and three’s a crowd. Add Chris Stone to the mix, and that crowd gets rowdy.”
Mitch lay in bed after Luka had left, his conversation with Ella playing in his mind. Since they’d married, Chris’s jealousy had made for a volatile union. A union Mitch wanted nothing to do with.
His thoughts turned to Tayla. How good she’d felt in his arms, and her hesitation as she’d asked for a practice kiss. He grabbed his phone from the nightstand and unlocked it. It was time to add a condition of his own.
Mitch: I have a condition.
Tayla: Which is?
Mitch: Another practice kiss .
When there was no immediate reply, Mitch placed his phone on the pillow next to him. He’d almost drifted off when his text alert chimed again.
Tayla: There’s no need. The result was satisfactory.
Mitch: I can do better than satisfactory.
Tayla: I doubt that.
Mitch reread her text and laughed. Satisfactory? She clearly didn’t rate him as a kisser. With his ego slightly bruised, he returned his phone to the nightstand, then pulled up the covers and waited for sleep.